


Does Anyone Still Wear A Hat?

by rachhell



Category: South Park
Genre: Craig Tucker Being An Asshole, Cryle Week 2019, Humor, Kinda Fluffy, M/M, Middle School, Stan's POV, boys who don't know how to handle their feelings, dumb kids being dumb and having dumb crushes, juuling in the bathroom like dumbasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 04:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18843658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachhell/pseuds/rachhell
Summary: Park County Middle school, in the boys' eighth-grade year, has instated a total ban of all non-religious headcoverings. In other words, they can't wear their freakin' hats indoors anymore, which is totallyweak.Stan notices that Craig is noticing his best friend a lot more than he used to. And that maybe, justmaybe,Kyle is noticing him back.Written for Cryle Week 2019.





	Does Anyone Still Wear A Hat?

**Author's Note:**

> This is silly. 
> 
> Written for day one of Cryle week - headcanons. My headcanon is that Craig thinks Kyle looks really cute without his hat, and that he starts noticing him in a new light when he realizes just how adorable he actually is.
> 
> The whole process includes kicking him in the shins, of course.
> 
> Inspired by a rude vice-principal I once had, who ripped my hat off my head when I was just trying to get to my locker to put it away right after it had snowed. Title is from Stephen Sondheim's _Company,_ which has nothing whatsoever to do with the story.

It all started when they banned hats at Park County Middle School. It was total bullshit, because they were in eighth grade, and they were almost _done_ and on their way to high school. Couldn’t it have waited until after they were gone?

Kenny tried to weasel his way out of it, of course, because _technically_ he was wearing a hood, not a hat, but PC Principal (who, to everyone’s disappointment, had somehow followed them to middle school, and would probably follow them to high school too, if he had his way), wasn’t having it. In fact, due to Kenny’s continued attempts to bend the rules, PC had amended the rule a couple weeks later, abolishing any non-religious headcoverings at PCMS, save for spirit days that were predetermined by the faculty of the school, sports which necessitated headcoverings for safety reasons, and after-hours events such as basketball games and school plays.

The amendment to the rules also prevented Clyde and Jimmy from stretching the definition of a _hat,_ squashing their planned, elaborate scheme involving Christmas wreaths, tea towels, and popcorn buckets. The rule clarification sucked copious amounts of balls, because Stan had totally wanted to see that go down, and Cartman wanted to participate, even if he wasn’t invited in the first place.

Most people got used to it fairly quickly, especially since PC had his whistle in the hallway before school, and would call out anyone wearing a hat. He did it even if they’d just come in from the falling snow of their harsh winters, which Stan thought was totally weak, because it was cold as shit. If they were just allowed to keep their hats on until they got to their locker, maybe they could thaw out a little quicker. It wasn’t like their school had the funding to heat the damn place properly, anyway.

Stan knew all about _that_ because his mom and dad talked about budget cuts and stuff all the time at the dinner table. Mostly about how they were impacting Shelly’s choir program at the high school, even though Shelly once told Stan that she didn’t really give a shit about choir, right before calling him a stupid _turd_ and snapping at him to get the hell out of her room. Sometimes his mom would yell at his dad that _he_ needed a budget cut, but his dad would just laugh, grind up some ice in his new Margaritaville, and get wasted.

There wasn’t really a point in trying to return a Margaritaville. His mom should just chill out and let him keep it.

Stan himself was mildly annoyed by the hat ban, if only because everyone could see how _gross_ he looked without it. His hair was always flat and greasy, no matter what he tried to do with it to make it look all flowy and nice like Craig Tucker’s. He wasn’t about to just up and _ask_ Craig about his haircare routine. That’d be kinda… _gay,_ and besides, Craig was a dick. He’d probably shove him and yell something about wanting his 100 dollars back from that whole Peru situation back in fourth grade. 

But after his first couple whistle incidents with PC, which made everyone stare at him and laugh at him like he was some kind of _freak,_ Stan had gotten used to it, had accepted his fate.

He couldn’t say the same for Kyle.

No matter how much Stan tried to tell him that it wasn’t that big of a deal, he wouldn’t stop _bitching_ about it, and Stan was really getting sick of it. Nobody gave a shit about Kyle’s hair. He wasn’t the only ginger in the school, not that Stan could call him that without getting punched in the arm and receiving some passive-aggressive silent treatment bullshit for a couple days.

Today was no different. It was a Monday, so everyone was pretty pissed off that they had to be back at school in the first place, and Stan had endured Kyle’s incessant complaining on the bus about getting stuck on the second-to-last boss in the new Terrance and Phillip PS4 game, and how he had to stop playing to do math homework and now didn’t remember where the _fuck_ he was in the game anyway. So, he already had a headache. It was made worse when they finally reached the looming glass doors of their middle school, and Kyle, with an overly-dramatic sigh, made a big show out of removing his ushanka.

“Literally no one cares, dude,” Stan said before Kyle could even begin.

Of course, that didn’t stop him.

“It’s an _injustice,_ Stan!” Making some kind of whiny groan, Kyle pushed the door open. “Freedom of speech is PC, right? He should totally get it. It’s stifling our freedom, it’s… it’s _un-American._ ”

“‘Kay. And you’re the only one who’s mad about it anymore. Besides, dude, if anyone’s getting laughed at, it’s me!”

Kyle shot him a glare. With his hat off, and his curls flopping in his face, it was hard to take Kyle’s rants seriously. Again, not that Stan could just off and _tell_ him he looked like some kind of angry little redheaded lamb if he wanted his super best friend to ever speak to him again.  
  
“I’m serious! I wash my hair twice a day, you know that, right? I look like I’ve been, I dunno, swimming around in french fries and you can see the zits on my forehead. I have _zits on my forehead,_ dude. Think about that.”  
  
“Why would I wanna think about your forehead zits.” Kyle rolled his eyes, yanking on the strap of his backpack as they trudged to their lockers. “Butters has zits all over his face and nobody cares.”  
  
“See, which is why nobody cares about your _hair,_ Kyle. People have bigger shit to worry about. Nobody’s staring at you.”

“Craig Tucker stares at me,”  Kyle mumbled under his breath. The moment he said it, a bright pink blush began to spread across his face.

Huh. _That_ was weird.

It was weird that Kyle even brought Craig up in the first place, come to think about it. They’d agreed after the whole Peru thing to ignore Craig and all the over-the-top drama he always had with his on-again, off-again boyfriend, who had actually told Stan while they were running the mile in gym class the other day that he was totally done with him for _good_ this time in this manic, disjointed spiel about _feelings_ and _communication._ Stan hadn’t exactly _asked_ for Tweek to confide in him in the first place, and it was kind of annoying. Fucked with his mile time, too.

But, whatever. Craig was just a bully. A bully with frustratingly perfect hair and no zits on his forehead. _What a dick_.  
  
“Yeah, well, it’s _Craig._ He’s a dick.”

“He’s a dick who hasn’t stopped _looking at me_ since they got rid of the hats and it’s… _ugh,_ whatever. It’s not important.” They’d reached their lockers, and, without further discussion on the matter, busied themselves in hanging up their coats, and gathering their books and supplies for their first class, which was Social Studies. A class they shared with, among other people, Craig Tucker.

If Craig truly _was_ staring at Kyle, and it was bothering Kyle or whatever, maybe Stan could catch him in the act and tell him off, or something. He was willing to bet it was all in Kyle’s head; that he was just so self-conscious about the hair he inherited from his crazy mom that he _thought_ Craig was staring at him.

As the bell rang, Stan made it his goal to find out which one it was.

 

* * *

 

It was fine that he was spending first hour doing some investigative reconnaissance, because Stan never really paid attention in Social Studies, anyway. Their teacher kinda sucked, and was really boring. Kyle always helped him out with studying for tests, always looked over his papers until he decided they were good enough, or, as was the case more often than not, different enough from the ones he copied from Kyle that the teacher wouldn’t notice.

Craig sat in between Butters and Kevin Stoley, in the pod of desks across the room from Kyle, who sat a couple rows away from Stan. When they got their seating chart, Stan was a mixture of annoyed that he didn’t get to sit next to Kyle, pleased, in a nauseous kind of way, that he _did_ get to sit right next to Wendy, and delighted that he didn’t have to sit anywhere near Craig Tucker _or_ Butters.

He usually spent the hour trying to get Wendy’s attention, or doodling in his notebook. It would be a first for him to make himself look at Craig and his dumb hair, so he had to play it cool. He couldn’t just _stare_ at Craig, because then Craig would know something was up, or worse, think Stan was hitting on him or something. Stan totally wasn’t gay, not that there was anything wrong with that, but if he _was_ gay, he’d wanna be with a nice dude. Like, Wendy, but a dude. Definitely not Craig buzzkill Tucker.

So, he alternated sketching out stick figures in his notebook with narrow-eyed glances in Craig’s direction.

 _Huh._ Kyle was totally right. Leaning his chin onto the heel of his hand, Craig was utterly, unmistakably, staring _directly_ at Kyle, who was actually paying attention to the teacher and taking notes like the nerd Stan always knew he was. What’s more, Craig wasn’t… _glaring_ at him, not like he did when Stan and Kyle passed him in the hallways and he’d flip them off, just like he always did.

He was looking at him like Stan knew he probably looked at Wendy. He even _sighed_ at one point. But no glares.

That is, until Stan noticed Kyle notice Craig. And, of course, Craig noticed Kyle noticing _him._ Immediately, Craig’s demeanor changed. His eyes narrowed, his back straightened, and he looked away.

Stan knew _that_ routine. It couldn’t be anything else.

Holy shit _,_ Craig Tucker was gay for Kyle.

This was _hilarious._ Kyle was going to get a kick out of it, and Stan was about to scribble out a note saying as much and toss it in Kyle’s direction, when he noticed something else.

The second Craig diverted his gaze, Kyle perched his chin on his entwined hands. His face softened, into something really _dumb_ and _mushy,_ and altogether really, really fucking gay. Kyle breathed a contented huff through his nose, something that probably would’ve turned into a sigh if he wasn’t careful, as he totally _checked out Craig Tucker from across the room._

No. Fucking. Way.

Lunch was going to be interesting, to say the least.

 

* * *

 

Kenny stole a Juul from his brother a few weeks back, and Stan had spent a fair few lunch periods with him and Kyle in a relatively disused bathroom in the science wing, passing it back and forth while talking about whatever. That day, they sat on the grimy tile floors, Kyle laying down his jacket for good measure as to not get his pants dirty, puffing mango-flavored nicotine and resuming their earlier conversation from that morning, about the T&P game.

The events of Social Studies weighed heavily on Stan’s mind. Part of him wanted to tease Kyle about it, and another part of him wanted to ask him just exactly what the _hell_ he was thinking getting a crush on someone who they were supposed to _hate._ So, the natural course of action, Stan decided, would be to just ignore it entirely.

That is, until the door swung open.

Fearing that it was a teacher, the three boys leapt to their feet. Kyle made a vain effort to conceal the device in his hand, although the aroma of fake fruit and the clouds of vapor hanging in the air surely would’ve given them away regardless.

But it wasn’t a teacher. It was fucking _Craig,_ looking all surly and snobby just like he always did. Of course. It _had_ to be Craig. He’d probably tell on them, because of course he fucking would. They were fucked.

“Gross,” he droned, sniffing the air. “Mango.”

Before either Stan or Kenny could think of a comeback, Kyle sprung into action. “Shut up, _Craig!”_ he jeered, puffing out his chest. His face was turning that same shade of pink it had that morning.

Stan wondered, then, as he watched Craig walk right up to Kyle, as unimpressed and flat as he always was, and stare him right in the eyes, how he’d _missed this._ It was _so_ fucking obvious, as Craig stared at Kyle, with an arch in his groomed brow, and Kyle stammered out something incomprehensible, and stared _right back._ Kyle’s lips parted when Craig leaned forward, and for a second Stan thought they were going to--

 _“Ow,_ what the fuck, you asshole!”

Craig had kicked Kyle in the shin.

“Your hair is stupid,” Craig said in his nasal monotone. “Stop being so… _Ugh._ Having such _dumb hair_ .” For good measure, when Kyle reached to rub his leg, Craig bent down with him, and snatched the Juul right out of his hand. “Find me if you want this back,” he stated, darting out of the bathroom quicker than Kenny could shout, _That’s mine, you prick!_

“What the hell is his problem!” Kyle flopped back onto the floor, not bothering to sit on his jacket, and massaged his leg. “That _hurt!_ And he… _god!_ Craig’s just… he’s… _god,_ you guys! I just. _Craig_ , you know?”

“Yeah.” Kenny looked dejected. “I dunno if I can get us another one of ‘em. What an asshole.”

Stan, on the other hand, couldn’t keep silent another second, Clearing his throat, he sat next to his best friend, patting him on the shoulder a couple times. “Kyle. Holy shit,” he said, slowly, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “Craig’s got a crush on you, dude!”

“Shut the fuck up, Stan,” Kyle retorted, jerking away. His face was the color of a ripening tomato, all the way up to his hairline, and creeping down his neck. “And, by the way, Craig’s the one with _stupid hair,”_ he practically whined, crossing his arms.

“ _Aaaaand_ you like him back,” Stan stated, and Kyle snorted.

“Do _not.”_

“You totally do,” Kenny chimed in, muffled under the hood that he never missed the chance to wear, when the teachers weren’t around. “You wanna have Craig’s gay babies. Pretty obvious.”

With an exaggerated shriek, Kyle threw his hands into the air. “I don’t wanna have _babies,_ what the hell is… I… Not to mention it’s physically impossible for that to… _ugh!”_ He looked between Stan and Kenny, frantically, his face ever reddening, until, after a few moments, he sagged his shoulders. “Just… don’t _tell_ anyone, okay, guys? It’s just… he’s _Craig,_ you know? It’s really embarrassing.”

“You should ask him out,” Kenny said, simply. “But make sure you get my Juul back if he says yes.”

Kyle glared at Kenny, then, when he looked at Stan, their eyes met with their super secret super best friend language, where they could just look at each other and know what the other wanted to say, or ask.

 _Is it okay? I know you don’t like him. But I really, really, do. I’m super hella mega gay for Craig Tucker, and totally want to have his gay babies,_ it said.

Stan heaved a sigh. “Fine by me, if you get Kenny’s Juul back, _and_ tell him to stop being such a fucking _dick.”_ At the frustrated roll of Kyle’s eyes, Stan couldn’t help but soften his voice, and smile. “Dude, I don’t care if you’re gay. Sucks you like Craig, but… If you like him, and he likes you, then why not?”

Straightening his back, and squaring his shoulders, Kyle grinned. “Cool. I’ll see you guys after school, all right? I’m gonna, uh. Go do a thing.” With that, he all but scampered out of the bathroom.

After he left, Stan could’ve kicked himself for leaving out the one thing he _actually_ wanted from Craig. But maybe if they made it work, Stan would eventually find out how Craig made his hair look so good.


End file.
